


Papi Pacify

by frais



Series: For You I Was A Flame [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Nonbinary Character, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frais/pseuds/frais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's eyes are focused down on himself, cheeks flushed and lips bitten plumper than normal. His bleached hair has grown out in recent months, back to reddish blond, and Pete’s sort of in love with it; with how he looks right now. He doesn't even care that he can't touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papi Pacify

**Author's Note:**

> I think writing angst has made me fall back to fluffy pwps. This isn't a proper sequel, just porn.

Pete’s shoulders ache and Patrick is ignoring him.

“Stop ignoring me,” he tells Patrick, and then when Patrick only lifts his head, he says, “my shoulders hurt.”

“That's because they're tied to the bed. They're bound to be sore,” Patrick smirks at him. He's got a bowl of cereal cupped between his thighs and he's scooping it up into his mouth, looking down at Pete with the curve of the spoon loose between his lips.

“If this was the other way around,” Pete starts to say, ignoring how Patrick rolls his eyes again and goes back to feeding himself. “If this was the other way around, I'd have untied you by now because of all the complaining you'd do.”

“Bullshit. I wouldn't complain until I really wanted out, and then you'd do it because you always give in when I complain.” Patrick's smile is a smug one, like he knows the truth and Pete grits his teeth because he's _never_ wrong when it comes to this stuff; it's really fucking annoying.

“Are you implying I want this right now?” Pete whines instead. In theory, Patrick's only bound him loosely but _still_. “I do not want this.”

“Oh. I thought you would be down for me fucking myself on your dick. I'm just refueling, but,” Patrick drops his spoon into his bowl and slides it onto the nightstand, “if this isn't what you want, that's cool. I can go take Bowie for a walk.”

“Shut the fuck up, dude. I just mean if you're gonna leave me hanging whilst you eat us out of fucking Cheerios again then let me walk the fucking dog.” Pete pouts, and he's not angry really. He thinks in a super weird way that he actually kinda gets off on bickering with Patrick like this. 

“I'm not a dude, don't call me one,” Patrick sing-songs, even though he doesn't normally mind. He's just in that annoying argumentative mood too. “But like, if you're gonna whine, I'll just fuck myself and you won't be able to touch.”

Patrick does good on his word and rolls onto his back beside Pete. He's in his own underwear, but one of Pete’s oversized shirts because that's all he seems to wear when they're home alone. It's cute and Pete riles him about it, laughs to himself when he sees Patrick wearing one of his own shirts on tour, tucked into jeans or a weird skirt. He's a special brand of kleptomaniac when it comes to Pete’s clothing.

Patrick runs his fingers lightly down his chest, legs loose and open as his hands curve to one of his thighs. He turns to Pete and smiles, wiggling his fingers before sliding them down into the soft material of his panties. 

“I really like watching you finger yourself. This isn't a chore for me,” Pete says, watching Patrick bite his lip as he rubs his hand over himself; pads of his fingers circling his clit in the ways Pete knows he loves. “You should use a toy.”

“Bored of fingers,” Patrick says, but Pete looks down and sees that his hips have risen upwards and that his hand has slipped lower, fingers breaching his body. “Lot of fingering when I'm on tour. That wouldn't be an issue if _someone_ would come out and see me...” Patrick leaves it hanging, like it hasn't caused arguments in the past, but Pete does see him; it's not like that, it's just he sort of can't always deal with Patrick: the musician, and Pete’s a jealous guy – embarrassingly so – and he gets into a bad mindset when he's around Patrick and his band. He thinks they just work better on mutual ground.

Pete tries to defend himself in another way. “Michael wants to fuck you. I watched all the recent uploads of your tour on YouTube. I see it, dude. I think I'd punch him if I had to spend any time with him. It's better we just meet up on your days off.”

“He doesn't want to fuck me, but sometimes I'm like so fucking high afterward and all I want to do is see my fucking boyfriend and, like, fuck him but he's not there. He's touching up some photo or watching _Dance Moms_ or something.” Patrick pulls his fingers out, like their bickering has now slipped him into a grumpy mood and Pete winces, trying to backtrack. 

“He wants to fuck you a little bit, admit it,” Pete says quietly, opening his mouth wider when Patrick's glistening fingers slide to his lips. He tastes Patrick on his fingers and he slides his tongue over the tips and down the lengths, sucking the taste and wet from them until Patrick pulls them out, replacing them with his mouth.

“I don't know, Pete. I figured if anyone in my band wanted me it'd be Rubano, you know?” Patrick's mouth slides to Pete’s jaw, kissing his skin between comments.

“Just because you're the same height it doesn't make you compatible, you little freak,” Pete smirks against Patrick's lips when he slides their mouths together again. He's even happier when Patrick crawls on top of him, warm thighs straddling one of Pete’s legs.

“This is true, but still, I wouldn't...you know. All I'm saying is I'd rather use my fingers than bother with someone else, because they're not you.” It's not exactly romantic, but Pete’s doesn't expect it from Patrick. Neither of them are particularly good at regular romance.

Pete’s a little annoyed though, because Patrick's only been back a day and then he's flying out again next Thursday and it fucking sucks. They haven't even fucked yet and Pete took the day off work to spend in bed with Patrick – he hadn't planned on it being like this. He did get a sleepy blow job the night before, but it was too much teeth and not enough tongue, and he's not tasted Patrick properly yet; not in nearly three weeks now.

“Am I getting any tonight or not?” Pete lifts his hips, tries to hump against Patrick, who's remaining a sprawled lump on top of him. Patrick twists his head to look up, his chin digging painfully into Pete's ribs. “Seriously Patrick, do yourself or me, or I'll be forced to, like, tell you all the shitty things Brendon keeps saying. I swear I'll fucking fire him.”

“No, you won't,” Patrick says, but he's sliding away. Once Pete loses the warmth of Patrick on top of him, the strain in his shoulders comes back. “Tell me what he's been saying.”

“Oh, mostly that he wants to know what you wear to the beach.” Pete keeps it light, waiting for Patrick's scandalized gasp, but he just gets a soft laugh instead.

“Why – is he planning on taking me?” Patrick drops down to the floor to his still-packed suitcase and Pete lifts his head, deciding all that gym work is paying off when he's able to keep it up for a good few seconds, before he falls back against the pillows.

“He doesn't get you – your gender, you know? Like he wants to, but when I told him to google it he got more confused.” If Pete could shrug a shoulder he would. “So now he just asks me dumb questions all the time.”

Patrick hops up from the floor, this time with a thick black vibrator in his hands, looking pretty smug. Pete doesn't know where it came from, he hasn't seen it before. “What did you tell him about the beach?”

“That it wasn't meant for people like you.” Pete grimaces when he sees Patrick's eyes bulge. “I meant your skin would burn! But then he got all scandalized and I felt really shitty so instead of making shit up I thought I'd ask.”

“If you took me on vacation you'd know,” Patrick says, pulling his shirt off. His hips curve out slightly over the waistband of his underwear, but Pete finds all of him so fucking hot that he can't help but stare. 

“You make more money than me – take me on vacation,” Pete laughs back. He really wishes he had his hands free, so that he could put them to Patrick's hips; feel the warm padding against his fingers.

Patrick bites his lip, sucking it in thought, his eyes staring down at Pete before he lets it go. “Honestly, I wear as many clothes as I can get away with at the beach because I don't like being naked in front of people I'm not having sex with.”

“Well, you'd only be naked on the beach if it was a nudist one...” Pete leaves it hanging though, because he knows what Patrick means. “You're a shorts and t-shirt kinda Patrick, right?”

“I'm a _Pete’s_ shorts and t-shirt kinda Patrick, but yeah.” Patrick purses his lips and looks away. “I wouldn't be comfortable going, though. So when _you_ take me on vacation make sure we're not hitting the beach.”

“Fuck it, let's just rent a cabin or some shit.” Pete shakes his head, somehow blaming Brendon for this, for distracting them like this. “Can we have sex now? Before I lose all feeling in my arms forever?”

Patrick smiles and nods. “Do you want me to untie you?” he asks quietly, hand resting on Pete’s stomach. Immediately Pete shakes his head, because he likes this. He just likes to complain about it.

“No, but please. Like, I haven't fucked you in nearly a month, Patrick. _Please_ hurry the fuck up.” Pete shuts his eyes and just groans loudly; Patrick's barely even touched his dick today, he can't believe he's as hard as he is.

“I'm still trying to decide; do I fuck myself on your dick? Or do I fuck myself with this vibrator sitting on top of you?” Patrick leans back when Pete bends his knees in support. Pete really doesn't want to lose to a fucking fake dick. 

“Pick me,” he says quietly, attempting a smile. He's fairly certain it comes out needy.

“That reminds me,” Patrick says, and Pete actually cries out because why are they digressing so much today? Why can't they fuck and talk shit after? He can feel that Patrick's wet; can feel how fucking aroused he is by the damp patch over his thigh, but still, he's insisting on talking shit about other things. “I don't appreciate your little tweets insinuating that you miss blow jobs when I'm on tour. I saw it, all my fans saw it, major douche points for you.”

“I was talking about pizza,” Pete says, and the sad thing is he actually _was_. He just thought it was funny to make people think it was about blow jobs, and now he can kind of see how it's backfired. “Does that mean the vibrator wins?”

“It should do,” Patrick says and he leans to the side to pick up the long, black toy. “I bought this when I was away, not used it before; figured it'd be kinda loud on a bus.”

“That'd be pretty fucking awkward,” Pete says, but he's not even that disappointed he's lost to a fake dick, because Patrick's pulling his panties to the side and sucking on the tip of the cock before pushing it down into his cunt. Pete watches; watches as Patrick's face tightens up slightly, as he gasps and his toes curl near the top of Pete’s ribs. 

Patrick fucks himself slowly for a few moments, resting his weight against Pete’s thighs, aware of Pete watching him with how he keeps himself open; spread for Pete to see how he's fucking himself on it.

“Turn it on,” Pete says, his voice catching on a whisper. His dick is firm, resting against Patrick's thigh, and occasionally Patrick reaches over to give it a tug before circling his wrist again.

“What level?” Patrick asks quietly, giving over control. His eyes are focused down on himself, cheeks flushed and lips bitten plumper than normal. His bleached hair has grown out in recent months, back to it's reddish blond and Pete’s sort of in love with it; with how he looks right now. He doesn't even care that he can't touch.

“Make it feel good, but don't come,” Pete says. Patrick's hand slides to the base, twisting it once and the loud buzzing takes over the room. Loud enough that Bowie barks a few times from their living room. “Bet you're really glad you didn't try it out on the bus.”

Patrick looks up and laughs, nodding his head. He slowly thrusts it inside himself, tilting it upwards on every push, catching his g-spot, and Patrick groans dirtily, head thrown back and Pete doesn't know what he's more jealous of; not being the one making Patrick like that, or not being the one getting off like that.

After a few minutes of fucking himself in sheer delight, Patrick comes back to himself, opening his eyes to see Pete just staring at him, his dick thick and heavy against Patrick's thigh. 

“Okay,” he pants, chest rising and falling. Pete wants to bite at Patrick's pink nipples; wants to leave angry red scratches over his sides in lust. Instead he flexes his wrists in their binds and humps Patrick pathetically. “Okay, I want your dick now.”

“Fucking finally!” Pete almost woops, before he realizes that'll just set their daft dog off again. Instead he leans his head up as Patrick pulls the vibrator from his cunt and turns it off. Patrick pushes it forward into Pete’s mouth and Pete groans around it; tasting Patrick's warm, wet arousal. Patrick strokes his dick at the same time, soft fingers pressing at all the right spots; a nice precise hand-job that would be enough on any other occasion. Then Patrick's pulling the vibrator from Pete’s mouth and tossing it onto the bed next to him, leaning over to Pete’s drawer for a condom.

“I thought we stopped with the rubbers?” Pete asks, a little disappointed. He's really really missed Patrick, being inside of Patrick, and he wants to do it bare. Since their commitment and moving in together they mostly do; it doesn't trigger Patrick now, not like it did that time at Gabe's wedding. On the few occasions he's felt weird afterward he actually talks about it and they talk the issues out.

“I forgot to take the pill a few times this week. I do not need you getting me pregnant,” Patrick laughs, splitting the foil and rolling the condom down over Pete’s dick. He jerks it a few times in his hand as Pete thinks over what he said. 

“What would happen if we did though? Like, you know. Had a baby,” Pete says and it's really not the time, especially because there's a ribbed condom over his dick and Patrick's holding onto his erection tightly.

“I had some eggs frozen after I... you know.” Patrick never says the word, and Pete never says it aloud either, but he swallows all the same. “If we have kids we could use those. That would be preferential for me. Someone else would carry it because I don't know if mentally I could go there, you know? If it happened accidentally then I'd try to come to terms with it, but I worked hard getting my body to feel like mine, I don't want to lose it growing a baby that we could have in a different way.” Pete won't lie, the speech sounds pretty well prepared, so he supposes it's been coming a while. He isn't really sure what to think, but it's making him lose his hard-on a little bit. 

“We'll talk about it later. But like, it's cool, I'm down with fertilizing your eggs test-tube style,” Pete says, and he doesn't even know what he's aiming for with that, but the face Patrick pulls is worth it all the same. “Literally, if I lose this boner, Patrick, I'll kill you anyway.”

“You're so odd,” Patrick says, but it's a fond tone that carries out, and Pete doesn't care because Patrick's jerking him again, bending down to mouth at the tip of Pete’s cock through the condom. “Can't believe we're using ribbed condoms.”

“Shut up, they feel good.” Pete's lost in how good they feel when Patrick finally _finally_ straddles him good and proper and sinks down onto his cock. Patrick's wet and he's exactly as Pete remembers from the last time they fucked. It was on the couch right before Patrick was headed to the airport, and Pete remembers it then like it is now, intimate and hot, and he just wishes he could feel Patrick. He likes running hands over the blades of his shoulders, likes to hitch them under his arms and bracket his ribs. He doesn't _like_ being pinned down like this at all. 

“Wanna feel you,” Pete whispers, watching Patrick rock slowly down on his cock, panties still pushed over to the side. 

“You can't feel me?” Patrick asks, and he smirks, clenching down over Pete’s cock and _fuck_. Pete’s hips bolt upwards as Patrick rocks down and it doesn't matter that there's a layer of latex between them because Christ, Patrick fucks good and Patrick fucks dirty and Pete’s almost dizzy with it.

Patrick rides him for a short while, until he gets lazy, and then he just rocks back and forth, leaning over for the vibrator he tossed aside earlier. “Let's play with this again.”

“Sure,” Pete says, surprised that he's even able to talk. He's on the edge; right on the edge of coming, but not quite there yet; not until Patrick flicks the vibe on again and levels it down so that it touches both Patrick's clit and the base of Pete’s cock. 

Patrick comes almost right away, tight tight tight heat against Pete, locking his cunt around Pete, throat curved forward. Pete’s looking at him, how fucking hot he is coming on Pete’s cock like that, and he loses it himself. 

Pete can't even move his hips, he just comes pressing right up inside Patrick, staring at him, the way his face is red and his hair's slicked down with sweat. It's all too much and not enough until Pete finally comes back to himself.

“Can I tie you up next time?” he asks, when Patrick lifts up from his dick, sliding his panties back into place. He watches him clean Pete up; dealing with the condom and wiping his dick softly, before he straddles Pete’s middle and starts undoing the tethers around Pete's wrists.

“Next time... next time you can take photos of me wearing whatever you want. For your private collection,” Patrick whispers the promise. Pete’s arms ache, from the joints of his shoulders all the way to his wrists, but it sounds like a fair enough trade to him.


End file.
